


We Find Our Own Way

by ghostboi



Series: Absence of Light [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Demon Dean, Hand Jobs, M/M, POV Sam Winchester, Possessive Dean, Praise Kink, Sam still has that concussion, Smut, Wincest - Freeform, happy ending-ish, slightly submissive sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 14:55:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4568736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostboi/pseuds/ghostboi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam belongs to Dean (whether he realizes it or not)</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Find Our Own Way

**Author's Note:**

> Dean/Sam. Smut. Wincest. Possessive Dean. Possibly dub-con in the beginning.
> 
> Could possibly be read as a stand-alone, though it might make more sense (with implied references) if the previous chapters are read first.

He was lying in a bed when next he opened his eyes, and it took him a moment to remember where he was.

Crowley’s. Dean had brought him to Crowley’s after taking him from the storage unit.

Sam stared at the wall for a moment, gauging his physical state. He was relieved to find that his head, while still sore, was aching far less than it had been. His throat was still a bit dry, but he didn’t feel quite as bone-deep exhausted. He sat up in the bed and glanced around, expecting to see his brother, but found himself alone. His eyes fell on a set of clothes and several towels on the bed next to him, and he realized that he needed a shower. He was dirty from the storage unit, still had dried blood in his hair, and just felt gross. He hesitated for a moment before sliding out of the bed. He inspected the clothes and found that they were his, taken from the duffel he had packed while searching for Dean. Sam hesitated again before picking them and the towels up and heading for the room’s en suite bathroom. 

When Sam exited the bathroom a short while later, feeling decidedly more human, he found Dean in the bedroom. The man had pulled the sheets off the bed and was replacing them with a clean set. 

“Feel better, Sammy?”

Sam watched as the other finished with the sheets as he answered, “Yeah, quite a bit better.” He ran his fingers through his still-damp hair, happy that the dried blood and dirt was gone. His eyes shifted to his brother as Dean crossed to stand before him.

Sam was slightly unnerved by the look on Dean’s face, the way the other man’s eyes slowly roamed the length of him. “How – how long was I asleep?” He moved around his brother, to cross to the window. The view was of a large yard, lined with manicured shrubs and large trees. His gaze went to Dean again as his brother answered, 

“Almost twenty-four hours. Woke you up a few times to check on you.” 

Sam blinked at the revelation that he had been asleep that long, then murmured only, “Oh,” his eyes returning to the view outside the window. 

He heard footsteps as Dean crossed the room to stand behind him; a moment later, his brother was pressing up against his back. Sam shied from the touch, tried to move away, but Dean’s hands on his hips stopped him. The man’s hold was firm, keeping him in place: he couldn’t help the shiver that ran through him as the other murmured, breath hot on his ear, “Where you going, baby boy?” 

“Dean –“ his own voice was barely more than a scratchy whisper, and the fingers gripping his hips tightened. His eyes dropped to Dean’s arm, fell on the Mark, and he bit his bottom lip as a trace of the earlier fear found him again. He let out a startled gasp as one hand shifted from his hip to brush against his crotch, and Dean chuckled in his ear, low and sensuous. 

Sam made another attempt to pull away but was held firmly in place; he could feel Dean’s hardness pressing against him. The hand which had brushed his crotch did so again, squeezing lightly. Sam let out a sound that was practically a whimper, and Dean chuckled again.

Dean began to stroke him lightly, rubbing and squeezing him through the cotton pajama pants he was wearing. He needed to stop his brother, he needed to pull away, but found himself pulled back against the other man. Teeth grazed the side of his neck and he gasped again, softly, a shiver coursing through him. 

“Like that, Sammy?” 

His brother’s voice was sex. Deep, husky, wrecked.. it was dangerous. Sam needed to stop this, he couldn’t let this happen. It wasn’t right – the thoughts dissipated as Dean’s hand shifted, slipped beneath the waist of his pants and briefs, to brush his bare skin. 

“Dean—“ his own voice was low now, the other’s name drawn out as he spoke it, a mixture of uncertainty and sudden need. 

His brother hummed against his ear, strong fingers stroking his rapidly hardening shaft, and he tried again, “Can’t – Shouldn’t do this – “

“When do we ever do what we should, Sammy? Hmm? We shouldn’t be alive at this point. We shouldn’t hunt monsters. I shouldn’t have woken up a demon. Who the fuck cares about what we shouldn’t do? Time to do what we _want_ to do.”

“Don’t want this,” the words were breathless as they left him, his head falling back against Dean’s shoulder, eyes closed. 

“No?” Dean turned his head to nip at Sam’s throat, fingers closing around his dick to stroke him, “That’s too bad, sweetheart, because I do.”

“You –“ Sam tried to remain coherent, tried not to arch into Dean’s touch, “You would – would make me – “ His voice trailed off as he recalled the storage unit, what had happened there.

His brother’s teeth clamped down on his neck, hard enough to bruise but not damage, and the man growled, “Yes.” He gave Sam’s dick a hard stroke as he spoke, and Sam let out a low moan. He couldn’t stop himself from arching into the touch, silently begging for more even though he knew he shouldn’t. 

“Good boy,” the words were a hot whisper in his ear as Dean’s free hand slid up to wrap lightly around his throat, “My good boy, Sammy.” The words sent a shiver through him, had him arching again into his brother’s hand; he had always been a sucker for Dean’s approval, hungry for it almost, even when he denied it to himself. 

Dean’s fingers slid up his throat, pressed hard against the bruise at his jawline, and a shudder racked Sam’s body: a mixture of pain and pleasure. “So fuckin’ hot for me,” the growled words at his ear were hungry, possessive, “Love to see you like this. You belong to me, Sammy. You hear me? You’re mine.” He nodded yes as Dean’s strokes grew faster, mouth falling open as the man’s fingers pressed against his lips. He sucked them when Dean shoved them into his mouth, guessing that was what his brother wanted: his assumption seemed to be correct when the elder Winchester growled against his ear, “Fuck. Yes.” 

When Dean’s thumb brushed over the head of his cock, Sam jerked hard against him, thrusting into his fist. Yet another growl as the older man repeated, “Mine.” He nodded in agreement and was instructed, “Say it. Say it, Sam.”

“Yours,” a ragged whisper, but the word reached his brother’s ears, “I’m yours, Dean.” The hungry groan that escaped the other man’s throat, Dean’s ragged, “So fuckin good for me,” sent him over the edge. He began to come with a soft cry, arching hard into his brother’s fist as Dean continued stroking him. His big brother was rocking into him, grinding hard, and followed him over with a growled curse of his own.

Sam didn’t protest when Dean dragged him over to the bed, shoved him down on it. The other straddled his waist, grinding down against him, and leaned down to catch his mouth in a searing kiss. Sam moaned against his brother’s lips, opened up for him as Dean’s tongue claimed his mouth. He could only cling to his brother, fingers clutching at Dean’s back and body arching against him of its own accord, as the older man mapped out his claim to him in that kiss.

Both men were breathing raggedly when they parted. Sam opened his eyes to meet his brother’s green gaze, and found Dean smiling down at him. He leaned into the touch as Dean stroked a hand over his cheek, and then into the kiss when it came. 

“My Sammy,” the words were a soft murmur as they parted again, and Sam nodded yes, lips curved into a soft smile. 

He always had been.


End file.
